


take on the world

by prettyoddfics (orphan_account)



Category: Bandom, Fall Out Boy, My Chemical Romance, Panic! at the Disco
Genre: Angst, FTM Mikey, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, LGBT, MTF Gerard, Multi, Smut, Trans, Trans Character, at some point, conversion therapy, ftm ryan
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-12-15
Updated: 2016-12-17
Packaged: 2018-09-08 16:03:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death, Underage
Chapters: 3
Words: 2,793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8851279
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/prettyoddfics
Summary: Greta and Mikey aren't supposed to be here.Their identities don't need to be "fixed."But apparently, the world thinks differently.   Remastered. Don't read this, read this.





	1. > Prerequisite

Greta and Mikey aren't supposed to be here.

They're supposed to be wrapped in one of their illustrious imaginary worlds. They should be in a car, pumping music, driving through the desert. They should be dressed in loud jackets and colorful masks, guns holstered at their sides. They should be strategizing: coming up with plans to ignite a rebellion, and defeat the bad guys, just like in the comics littered across Greta's carpeted floor.

They should be busy sparking a revolution.

Greta and Mikey weren't made for this mundane world. Their imaginations deserve more than this hollow city neighborhood, streets lined by crumbling bricks and dismal sidewalks.

They're pretty sure that the universe dumped them in the wrong bodies, the wrong worlds. Both Greta and Mikey aren't happy with the way they look. Greta hates her flat chest and hard lines, Mikey his soft curves and gentle lips.

So they try to escape, Greta through her comic books and Mikey through his music. They invent other worlds to travel to together.

But they can never stay there for long. Their parents always tear them out of their fantasies and push them into the real world, into bullies at school and assholes at work.

Greta and Mikey don't belong.

•••

"Gerard! Matilda!"

Greta is cut off from her in-depth description of her latest comic. Mikey, who was listening intently, jumps slightly.

"Come downstairs now."

Greta and Mikey look at each other. Greta sees a dark cloud of worry fill Mikey's eyes as he slowly rises from the floor.

"Someone must've told them," Mikey mumbles.

Greta brushes a gentle hand along his jaw. "We'll face it together, Mikes."

Mikey frowns. "You know they must've guessed by now."

Clenching her jaw, Greta turns to the door.

"MATILDA JANE WAY!" their mother hollered.

Filled with apprehension, Greta followed Mikey down the stairs.

Their mother is waiting for them in the living room.

And she is livid.

Her eyes burn with rage. "Matilda," she seethes. "Why?"

Mikey clenches his jaw. "You know why."

"Is this part of your stupid tomboy phase? Because it is UNACCEPTABLE. You with your loose jeans and baggy shirts and now cutting your hair—you know how they look at you. They think that you're a boy. That you're a she-male."

Each word strikes Mikey like a slap. He is putting on his brace face, but–

"LOOK AT ME!" his mother yells.

Mikey stands tall and locks eyes with her while Greta shrinks into the corner.

Mikey has always been braver than Greta. He doesn't care what people says about his boyish appearance. He binds and refuses to wear makeup and sometimes even wears the clothes that Mom bought for Greta.

This is probably the reason that Mom is confronting Mikey. He is open about his masculinity and nonconformity.

Greta isn't brave like he is. One mean comment can send her into the bathroom in hysterics. She never dares to wear skirts or makeup, restricting her femininity to her bedroom.

For that, she can thank her anxiety.

Mikey is defiant. He stars at Mom in the eyes, unflinching. Mom recoils a bit.

"You're disgusting," she spits. "You're not my daughter." Greta flinches.

"That's right," Mikey says calmly. "I'm your son."

Mom's hand moves faster than light; a blur of skin and Mikey stumbles in shock, letting out a soft gasp of pain. Greta runs forward and wraps her arms around him defensively.

"Get your things, you're leaving tomorrow."

Greta doesn't have to ask her what that means. She knows enough about it that she recoiles in horror when she hears her mother say it.

"Wait!" Greta cries. "What's happening?"

"I'm sending Matilda somewhere to fix her," Mom says gently. She put her hand on Greta's shoulder, as if Greta is the fourteen year old and not Mikey.

Mikey looks at Greta from the floor with wet eyes.

"Alone?"

"Yes, honey. You'll stay home with me."

"N-No I won't."

"What?"

"Mom, I-I'm trans too. My name is Greta."

A thick silence fills the room. Mom's face is a stone wall, revealing no emotion. It's obvious that she's where Mikey got his pokerface.

"Don't be silly, Gerard."

"I'm not joking."

One, two, three. Greta counts in her mind the seconds that Mom stands in the middle of the room, wordless.

By thirteen, she turns and leaves without a word.

•••

"Almost fifty percent, Mikes. I can't leave you there alone, you're already at risk as it is."

Mikey sighs and looks at the floor. "I haven't–"

"–cut in three months, attempted suicide in five. I know. But this'll give you a knew reason to do so."

Mikey leans against the wall. He can't look Greta in the eyes. Greta can sense his silent agreement and moves on.

"The good thing is, there'll be plenty of other gay kids to meet." At that, Mikey smiles a bit. "Not to mention, there's only a few months until I turn eighteen. They can't keep me there after that, can they?" Greta smiles. "And then I'll take you with me."

"Where?"

"The city," Greta says. "Any city. And we'll make music and comics and take on the world together, okay?"

Mikey nods. He hears a yell from downstairs.

"It's time to go," Greta says. "But no matter what, I'll be with you, okay?" She smiles and kisses Mikey on the forehead.

"Take on the world?"

"Take on the world."


	2. Group

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greta meets some of the other…
> 
> What is she supposed to call them? Inmates?
> 
> Anyways, this place is hell.

"We'll start group sessions," the lady says, pleasant but malevolent. "Then we'll progress into individual therapy based on your situation."

Greta swallows. She twists her hands in her lap, a habit that surfaces quite often when she's nervous.

And oh hell, she's nervous.

She's in a strange cross between a school and an office building. The walls are bland beige, the chairs generic waiting room style.

She and Mikey were separated in the beginning and she was taken to an old woman who's filling out some forms in front of an incredibly old desktop computer.

"The group session starts in half an hour," the lady says placidly. "We'll get you settled in your dorm. Your roommate will be Brendon Urie."

At the sound of his name, a boy with dark hair and plump lips pops out of seemingly nowhere and grins at Greta.

"You have same sex roommates?" Greta asks.

"It's to encourage non-sexual bonding between you," she explains.

Greta frowns.

"Cmon," Brendon pipes up. He gestures for Greta to follow him down a barren hall and into a small room with two cots across from each other.

"This is your bed," Brendon says, pointing to the cot on the right. Greta sits down carefully. "Your clothes go into that closet. Your schoolbooks go on that desk. And your self esteem goes out the window." Brendon smiles cheerfully. Greta feels queasy.

"What're you in here for?" she asks.

"Groping a dude behind the football stadium. I'm bi. You?"

Greta shrugs. "MTF and pan. My brother's here too. His name's Mikey, he's FTM and gay."

Brendon's face softens a bit. "Sorry to hear that," he says. "What's your name? Besides your birth one or whatever."

"Greta."

"Cool." Brendon settles on the bed and looks up at the ceiling. He is very antsy. Greta wonders if he has ADHD.

"So what do they do to you?" she asks tentatively.

Brendon's face hardens. "Real shit," he said. "They talk to you about the roots of your problems, make you pray all the time, and… For the gay ones, they stick you in front of porn and shock you."

Greta blanches. "They do that?"

"Only for some. It's not like electrocuting, it's just a tiny shock. And they only do it if you're one of the bad ones."

It seems that Brendon is trying to reassure her. It isn't working. An awkward silence falls between the two, where Brendon seems to regret most of what he said, before someone opens the door.

"Time for group," they say tiredly. They are of unidentifiable gender, with short, wavy brown hair and big eyes. Brendon sits up when they see them, grinning at them. He has total heart eyes for the kid, Greta thinks.

"This is Ryan, he's FTM," Brendon says.

"Shh!" Ryan hisses. "Don't let them hear you say that."

Brendon puts on a sad puppy face. Ryan rolls his eyes. "Just come on."

Greta decides to walk with Ryan. "Hey," she says.

"Sorry about Brendon," Ryan says. "He's very…loose with what he says. He's going to get in big trouble one day. He's already been in the white room three times."

"What?"

"Oh, the white room? They put you in there alone for a day. To reflect and stuff."

"So…solitary."

Ryan clenches his jaw. He stopps suddenly. Greta is about to apologize, but she realizes that they reached their destination.

The group room is pretty much a conference room. Like everything else, it's completely bland.

At least twenty other kids are seated in chairs around a table. They all look the same: tired, with all the color and liveliness seeped out of them.

Greta sees Mikey across the table and smiles tentatively at him. His eyes light up and he smiles back.

A man at the head of the table stands up. He's tall, but young, with dark skin and droopy eyes that make him look older and tired.

Greta seats herself in between Ryan and a pale girl with dark hair.

"Welcome to group therapy," the man says. "For those of you who don't know me, I'm Dr. Frank. We have six new kids this season. We're going to go around the circle and introduce ourselves and tell each other why we're here. We'll start with Georgia."

Ryan begins to speak. For a second, Greta was confused, but then she realizes that Georgia must be his birth name.

"I'm Georgia, I'm seventeen and my I was sent here because I felt like a male. My goal is to embrace my femininity."

"Thank you, Georgia," Dr. Frank says. His gaze moves to Greta.

"Uh…I'm Greta and–"

"No," Dr. Frank says firmly. "Tell is your real name."

"But–" Greta begins, then cuts herself off.

She is beginning to realize just what this place does.

It erases all of your identity and sense of belonging. It pegs every original thought as negative and convinces you that your innermost thoughts are wrong. Are sin.

"It's okay," Dr. Frank says, "we all make mistakes. But you'll have to make an effort to avoid using that name instead of your God-given one. We'll make a note to work on that during training."

Greta flushes and sinks a little in her chair. Ryan gives her a look of sympathy.

"Start over," Dr. Frank says.

"I'm…Gerard. I'm seventeen. I'm here 'cause I identify as a girl. My goal is to, uh…please my parents."

"Good," Dr. Frank says. "Next."

The girl with the dark hair speaks up. "I'm Lindsey. I'm a lesbian."

Dr. Frank cuts her off. "You know what we say about labels. Pete, what do we say about labels?"

A kid with dyed blond hair sits up. "We say that labels are a form of false hope. Labels are lies. They teach us that being attracted to women, for example, is a condition common enough to warrant its own name."

"Precisely," Dr. Frank says. "Now try again."

Lindsey is staring daggers at him. "I'm Lindsey, I'm sixteen, and I'm sexually attracted to other women."

"And your goal?"

"To be a productive member of society." Lindsey spits the words out.

"Attitude, Lindsey," Dr. Frank says pointedly.

Greta looks across the table at Mikey. They lock eyes and Greta can feel his dread.

They're doomed.


	3. Individual

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Greta is wrongfully accused.
> 
> Honestly, the people here are desperate to find reasons for her trans-ness.
> 
> **TW // Queer erasure, queerphobia, and rape mentions.**

It's Greta's first night here. She can't sleep.

She's used to having music to listen to to fall asleep, or at least a decent blanket. But this cot is tiny and rough. Across the room, Brendon is sound asleep and snoring.

Greta sits up quietly. She gets out of the cot and wanders over to the small window. It's about two feet squared.

She messes with it a bit, trying to get it open, before she realizes that it's locked. Of course. She sighs. This place would never leave an opportunity to escape.

There's even a wire behind the glass just in case someone were to break the glass.

Greta gives up and goes back to bed.

•••

The next day begins with breakfast for Corridor 4. There are 4 corridors, each with 3 dorms—6 people. Thankfully, Mikey is in Greta's corridor, as is Ryan, Lindsey, and a girl named Melanie that Greta saw at group.

He sits with Mikey and Ryan, who is apparently Mikey's roommate. Brendon joins them halfway through.

The food is soggy cereal and eggs accompanied by pulpy orange juice.

"Ms. Darla makes it," Ryan explains. Greta remembers her as the placid secretary that introduced her to Brendon.

"Were you out?" Brendon asks suddenly.

"Bren!" Ryan hisses.

"It's okay," Greta says. "I heard Dr. Frank say that the lunch dude—Edwin—is out sick. So he won't be listening.

"Anyway– yeah, I was out. Everyone called me Greta and she. My parents never knew that I was, though."

"I was too," Brendon says. "I was pretty popular." He smirked. "But yeah, everyone knew I like dudes."

Suddenly, a large hand lands on Brendon's shoulder. He looks up slowly, with wide eyes. Dr. Frank is standing over him with pursed lips.

"White room," he says.

Brendon gets up with out a word and heads out of the cafeteria. Dr. Frank eyes the rest of the group.

"Remember to report people who do the wrong thing," he says. He walks away.

They finish their meal in silence.

•••

The first "activity" that day is individual therapy for Greta. She's supposed to meet with a man named Mr. James in his office.

She follows the directions she was given and arrives at a door with a plaque that says "James, Thomas K." She knocks once and the door opens almost immediately.

Mr. James is a thin, smiling man with salt-and-pepper hair and crinkly eyes. "Welcome, Gerard!" he says. Greta is wary of this air of friendliness.

His office is painted an ugly shade of light green. There are lots of shelves lining the walls, covered in books and papers. There's a desk in the middle of the room, and a chair facing it. Mr. James tells Greta to sit down.

"Welcome to individual therapy," he says. "Here, I'll get to know you on a personal basis so that we can do our best to fix you."

He smiles reassuringly. "So, first tell me. What labels did you use to describe yourself?"

Greta blinks. "Um, pansexual trans girl."

Mr. James takes some notes in a small book.

"All right. What we're going to do is erase those labels, okay? There is no such thing as being transgender. Instead, what we call it is gender identity disorder. Pansexual is a made up word—we use 'sexual attraction disorder.'"

Greta swallows.

"Now, tell me. Who raped you?"

"What? Nobody!"

Mr. James smiles sadly. "You'd like to think that. You have a younger sister that is here too, correct?"

Greta nods.

"Did you rape her?"

Greta blanches. "What the fuck? No!"

Mr. James makes a note in his book. "Denial…" he mutters. "Okay. Are you aware that assaulting your sister made her have gender identity disorder?"

Greta stares at him open-mouthed.

"Next order of business," Mr. James says, oblivious to Greta's shock. "We're going to start the Roots Project. What we'll do is draw a tree representing your problems. One for gender, one for sexual attraction."

Mr. James pulls a piece of paper out of his desk. It has a tree drawn on it. He points to the roots. "These are the causes of your problems. The trunk is the path to the disorder. And the leaves and branches are your disorder. Understand?"

Greta nods silently.

"Tomorrow, we'll start looking at some of the roots of your problems. Today, we'll start brainstorming. What do you think caused you to want to be female?"

"Um, because masculinity never felt right for me."

"You didn't feel manly enough? Okay." Mr. James scribbles in his notebook.

"No! That's not what I–"

"It's okay, I understand. And you resorted to sexual deviation to make you feel like a man."

"I didn't–"

"Gerard, if you want to be fixed, you're going to have to learn to admit what you've done."

Mr. James looks at Greta pensively. She blinks tears out of her eyes.

"It looks like we're done for today. Let's get you back to your room and you can rest before lunch and school."

Greta nods silently and leaves the room, feeling utterly defeated.


End file.
